Being so beautiful you can eat for free (Postcards from Portugal)

More postcards from what now seems like a long ago holiday in Portugal

24th May,

Dear Mr Postman,

Got a text from my mum today, hear the weather ain’t great so hope doing the round isn’t too tough.  You should think about transferring to the Algarve, it is stunning here, the temperatures hit 28 today.  Am sure the language barrier wouldn’t be a problem for long, we have been here almost a week and can manage a couple of words confidently.

We ate out, we literally dragged the kids to Old Town Albuferia, the walk was punctuated with cries off ‘I want to go to the hotel,’ from twin boy. ‘I love the nightly roast dinners’ from twin girl (who is surviving on bread most nights). Then ‘disco, disco’ from BB.  I felt bad Mr P, but we continued on our journey; I need a break from the buffet.

Old town was filled with hungry tourists battling past the over zealous waiters all showcasing their menus promising the ‘best food in Portugal.’ I don’t like pushy salesman Mr P, although the chap who told me I was so beautiful I could eat for free certainly tempted me.  Until he who helped create them pointed out he had a squint and his glasses needed an urgent clean.

We settled in a nice little steak house and all ate until our tummies hurt.  Twin Girl declared her lasagna the best ever and I adored drinking a cool chardonnay which didn’t have any tang of vinegar.

We wandered through the shops on route back to the hotel Mr P and I indulged the kids by buying them little bits of tat that they couldn’t live without.  It is nice to be a ‘yes’ mum at times Mr P.  BB got a new bangle,  Twin Boy got some bright orange and green shades.

Twin girl invested in a cross on some string which makes me want to start singing ‘Like a Prayer’ every time she hangs it round her neck.  She bought it to be ‘closer to Jesus’ Mr P, and when she said that I choked a little.   You may not know Mr P, as you don’t come on a Sunday, but we are not really church going folk.  Jesus only gets mentioned when I stub my toe, or when twin boy fails to appear with his school shoes on for the eighth time in a morning.  Yet twin girl, from her agnostic upbringing seems to want to be closer to her supposed maker Mr P!

Do you think she may be a nun?  I’d take a nun for a daughter.

When we got back to the hotel we found to BB’s dismay that the disco had finished.  But to the children’s joy a bloody reptile show was starting.  I may be moody Mr P, but personally I don’t see where snakes, tortoises and Iguanas fit in my Algarve holiday.  In spite of my reluctance the kids loved it.  Twin girl got to stroke an Iguana, and when probed by he who helped create them on how it felt, she retorted ‘just like granddads skin.’ Not sure Mr P what our Dad’s would think of that but it sure made us chuckle.

We retired early then Mr P, a full day of water slides left us all knick knack paddy whacked, and the reptiles left me feeling ready for a shower and sleep.

Pirate ship tomorrow Mr P, six hours at sea with three kids and an often sea sick husband.

Good times,

Love to Mrs P.

Wish you were here (so long as you don’t bring bills)

Love Jane (and the gang)

Xxxx

To read more Postcards From Portugal check out these post’s:

Day One: Needles and Vino

Day Two: Raining on our parade

Day three: Thongs and arse cracks

Day four: Beating the kids

Day Five: How a skinful leads to Agadoo

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